


Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives

by CosmicMind



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bad dates, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 00:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicMind/pseuds/CosmicMind
Summary: All Demoman wants is to have a nice steak dinner for the perfect date with his love. Is that too much to ask?!





	1. Flawless Script

**Author's Note:**

> This is a long one guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demoman gets some advice from the old wise ones of love.

With one eye closed and the other squinted, Medic observed the small gold band he held between his index finger and thumb. Despite it’s uniform and circular shape, he still turned the thing around to look at it from other angles.

 

Sitting in front of Medic, Demoman was nervously rubbing his hands together. “No good…?” he asked, “Forgot ta ask ye fer a sample o’ his finger so I used me own.”

 

“No, it seems like zhe correct size,” Medic replied, flashing a smile as he lifted the ring down, “Just is very simple. I zhought you vould go for somezhing more garish.”

 

“Well, we’re always fightin’, ya know?” Demoman explained, “Figured something simple would work for Jane.”

 

“Simple ring for simple man?” Heavy, who was sitting on Medic’s rolling chair next to where Medic sat at his desk, “Doktor, let me see.”

 

“Oi, watch what ye say!” Demoman snapped as Medic handed the ring off to Heavy for inspection. The band of gold was nearly engulfed between Heavy’s massive hands, and the last thing Demoman needed was for him to drop or break it. “That’s me best mate yer referrin’ too!”

 

Heavy raised an eyebrow at Demoman’s sudden reaction, and Medic placed a hand on his partner’s hairy arm. “Tavish, he didn’t mean it as to call him stupid,” he assured, “Ve aren’t native English speakers, you know.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Demoman apologized bashfully, “Sorry. Forget sometimes.”

 

“Heavy just meant zhat Soldier is, erm, _utilitarian_ \- I believe zhat’s zhe vord. Never been one for needless luxuries.”

 

“Aye, that’s what I thought, too.”

 

Demoman let out a sigh of relief as he leaned back in the patient chair in front of Medic’s desk. Had he been told a year ago if he would become quite close with Heavy and Medic, Demoman would have assumed he was either drunk or dreaming. Yet here he was, talking to these two about one of the most important days of his life that was almost here. They were the experts on relationships on the team, after all; the matching rings they wore weren’t just for a fashion statement.

 

“So, vhen do you plan to use it?” Medic inquired, resting his chin on his folded hands being propped up by his elbows, “Make a scene in front of zhe team during dinner?”

 

“My plan’s _much_ better than that,” Demoman assured, chest rising with pride, “On Sunday I’m takin’ him out to the finest restaurant in the next city over fer steak. Then, after we’re all giddy and full, I’ll drive us up the mountainside. We’ll be all alone, so nothing will interrupt the big question.”

 

“Zhat’s sounds vonderful!” Medic exclaimed, clapping his hands together, “You seem to have everyzhing planned out. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

 

“You sure he will really like it?” Heavy suddenly interjected. The other two turned their attention to him as he was now rolling the ring between his fingers. He placed the ring back on the desk in front of Demoman and cleared his throat to elaborate.

 

“Vhat do you mean?” Medic said, furrowing his brows.

 

“You say Solider has simple tastes. Does this not seem like… too much for him?”

 

“I’m out here askin’ fer his hand in marriage, not about the bloody weather!” Demoman cried, “Why _wouldn’t_ I make it special?”

 

Heavy shrugged. “Just asking if you planned this with his best interests in mind, or just think only what you want.”

 

“Heavy!” Medic barked, lightly smacking Heavy on one of his biceps. While a tiny swipe from his fiancé was barely felt by a brick wall of a man such as Heavy, it’s Heavy’s ego that looked visibly bruised. Heavy rolled his eyes and slipped his reading glasses back on to go back into his book. Medic groaned and reached across his desk to lightly squeeze Demoman’s forearm. “Ah, pay no mind to him. I, for vone, vish you zhe best of luck, _mein freund_.”

 

Despite the doctor’s kind words, Demoman still had a leech of guilt now gnawing at his insides. What if Heavy was right and he hadn’t considered Soldier’s interests at all. He hadn’t even considered if Soldier _owned_ anything fancy enough to wear to a five-star restaurant before making the reservations months ahead.

 

He shook the fear off and met Medic’s gaze. No, tomorrow night would be perfect. He had planned everything exactly and did not intend to go off schedule.

 

“Thank ye, doc,” he said before excusing himself from the chair. Medic gave a friendly wave as Demoman quietly exited the room to go meet Soldier, Engineer, and Spy for cards before they suspected something. Once the double doors stopped swinging, Medic leaned over to rest his head on Heavy’s arm, sighing dreamily.

 

“Vhy didn’t you take _me_ out for steak and a trip to lovers’ lane vhen you proposed?” he cooed, tracing a finger in a circular pattern between Heavy’s pectorals, “Badgering me until I looked up from my vork isn’t exactly zhe picture of ‘romantic,’ _ja_?”

 

Heavy couldn’t help but crack a smile as he kept his eyes on his novel. “You never asked,” he replied honestly, “Besides, you are too smart for own good; would have figured it out as soon as we get in car.”

 

Medic gave a hum of amusement and cuddled his face into Heavy’s firm shoulder. “I guess you’re right about zhat. Zhough, I vouldn’t have it any other vay.”

 

Heavy gave a peck on the top of Medic’s head and felt a warmth spread through his body as he saw the glimmer of Medic’s ring as his fingers crawled along his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

After hours of convincing Soldier to wear something nice, and that it didn’t make him any less of a brutal warrior, Demoman got Soldier into one of his spare dress shirts pants. Unfortunately, he had no dress shoes that fit Soldier, so he begrudgingly let Soldier tuck his pants into his boots. Soldier fussed about trying to tie a tie on his own, despite obviously having no knowledge of it. His ears turned bright pink as Demoman did it for him in the mirror above Demoman’s dresser.

 

“Well, Mr. Doe,” Demoman said once he adjusted the tie around Soldier’s next and gave him a side hug, “I say ye clean up pretty well for someone who eats nothin’ but canned soup all week.”

 

“Little tight,” Soldier muttered, tugging at his sleeve collars and cufflinks.

 

“Aye, it’s like that,” Demoman agreed, “How’s the tie feelin’?”

 

“’t’s alright.” Soldier grinned at Demoman as he reached over to grab his hand. “So, where are we headed to, private?”

 

“Oh, it’s a surprise,” Demoman purred as he kissed the side of Soldier’s face, enjoying the lingering scent of his morning shave, “But yer gunnae love it.”

 

“Is that a promise?”

 

“Aye. I swear on me dad’s grave.”

 

The two waved to the other guys in the rec room as they walked out. Scout whistled and teased at the sight of Soldier in any other garments besides his uniform, though the others just gave pleasant farewells. Heavy and Medic, who were cuddling on the beat-up sofa in front of the TV, where Pyro was sitting three feet from the screen, gave Demoman an extra big thumbs up.

 

They used Demoman’s rarely-touched car for the trip, which was a brand-new white car that Demoman bought with his earnings last summer (despite the complaints from his mom about “wasting his money on junk” and her general crabbiness). They turned on the radio to swing music, which was one of the few music genres Soldier tolerated and chattered throughout the first forty-five minutes on the open road.

 

Despite his best efforts to act as though everything was normal, he’d be a liar if he claimed that the little box in his shirt pocket wasn’t practically burning a hole through. Looking at the way Soldier laughed at his bad jokes, the tenderness in his blue eyes when he looked at Demoman- it drove him crazy. He just loved Soldier more than life itself, and today he’d show Soldier that he _is_ his life right now.

 

The road was still clear as they approached the intersection of the city, as well as Demoman’s mind. Tonight was going smoother than he could have ever asked for.


	2. Murphy's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

Tonight was not going as smoothly as planned. Not even close. In fact, this was the exact opposite of going according to plan.

 

Demoman had not factored in the possibility of miles and miles of standstill traffic through the downtown area. Of course, it had to just fall from the sky when they were within ten miles of the restaurant; the promised land in their sight, but out of reach. Soldier thought there may have been an accident. Demoman didn’t really care _why_ there was traffic, he just wanted it to go away,

 

Despite his frustration, he dared not to look at his watch, as it would only make him angrier. Instead, he kept his anger inside; the last thing he wanted was to let Soldier know how much of a sour mood he’s in. Soldier, likewise, was uncharacteristically quiet- they both were. They knew it sucked, but all Demoman could do was hope the traffic cleared up, or at least the restaurant would understand their predicament.

 

They didn’t.

 

Once the two finally made it past the dead traffic and probably broke a few speeding laws to race to the restaurant, they bolted inside. Demoman smoothed out his suit and took a calming deep breath as he approached the host podium, greeted by a dark-skinned man with hair not unlike Demoman’s. He smiled at the paired, and Demoman stepped in front of Soldier while the other looked in awe at how fancy the interior was.

 

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the host greeted, “Do you have a reservation?”

 

“Aye,” Demoman replied, “Should be under ‘DeGroot.’”

 

The young man smiled and opened up the reservation book. “Certainly.”

 

Demoman casually rested his arm on the podium. We’re a bit late, I know, but we got caught in traffic and-”

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the host said, having a noticeable drop in his cheerful demeanor, “When did you say your reservation was scheduled, again?”

 

“Six-thirty.” Demoman raised an eyebrow. “Ye _did_ get it, right?”

 

The host frowned and shook his head. “No, we got it- says so right here. It’s just, well… this reservation was for well over an hour ago, as it’s currently almost eight. Unfortunately, our policy states that if the patron does not show up within thirty minutes, we cannot seat them.” He cleared his throat and attempted to return to a customer service-friendly attitude, smiling at the wide-eyed Demoman. “Would you like to reschedule, perhaps? I can check if there have been any recent cancellations.”

 

Demoman swallowed and bit back all of the curses he wanted to shout to this poor kid. “So, what yer sayin’ is,” he gritted through clenched teeth, “It’s _our_ fault we got stuck in that traffic?”

 

“I really am sorry, sir,” the host explained, “I wish I could do more. But I’m more than willing to give you our earliest opening, and I can bring my manager out to-”

 

” _DO YE KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN WAITIN’ FER THIS FRILLY PLACE?!_ ” Demoman hollered, banging his fist on the podium as the host visibly flinched, “ _YE BETTER GET YER BOSS OUT ‘ERE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO ME MUM, I’LL-”_

 

As soon as his brain caught up with his mouth, Demoman’s heart sank. Everyone was staring at him, some whispering at the angry, one-eyed black man that was yelling at this poor kid doing his job. What’s worse, when Demoman craned his neck to look behind and his heart sank past his stomach.

 

Soldier was staring at him in as much shock as the rest of the peanut gallery.

 

Demoman dropped his hunched shoulders and tried to lend an apologetic hand out to the host. “I-I’m sorry, lad,” he apologized profusely, “I dinnae-”

 

“S-Sir, you need to leave, immediately,” the host stated firmly, clutching two menus to his chest, “If you do not, I will be forced to call the police.”

 

“Wait, no, no, please,” Demoman begged, “I _need_ this dinner. I can reschedule, it’s no problem.”

 

“This kind of behavior is _not_ tolerated at _Antonio’s_! We do not want your service here!”

 

“But, but-”

 

“Tavish,” Soldier said suddenly, clutching Demoman’s wrist. His voice was commanding, yet not his usual flavor of a commanding tone. His expression was unreadable, but had a great deal of concern in it, which only made Demoman feel worse. “Let’s retreat.”

 

Soldier led Demoman out of the restaurant and into the car in complete silence. They both knew they could never show their faces around here again.

 

Neither of them spoke to one another for the first twenty minutes of the ride. What was there to even say? Demoman had completely ruined their date with his stupid temper, and now they were nothing more than two men in fancy suits driving in utter silence. What was worse was that Demoman couldn’t even explain _why_ he was so pissed about running this date.

 

Soldier was the first to clear his throat, glancing over at Demoman. “Don’t worry about it, son,” he said, attempting to throw an edge of humor in, “Their food probably stunk anyways. Can’t even expect much from a bunch of sissies in skirts serving portions of food even the _French_ would think is too small.” He beat a fist onto his chest, voice raising. “They don’t know what a _real man_ has to eat!”

 

“No, it’s my fault,” Demoman grumbled into his fist as one elbow rested on the side window, “I had tae go and ruin it all with me big ol’ mouth-”

 

Soldier gave a small smile and touched Demoman’s steering arm. “No use crying over spilt water,” he reassured as best he could. Demoman shook off his touch and kept staring at the darkening desert road before them as night came.

 

“I dunnae wannae talk ‘bout it right now,” he snapped, a bit louder than intended. Soldier brought his hand back to his chest and joined Demoman in staring at the stretching road in silence.

 

Demoman genuinely wanted to scream his lungs out and beat the crap out of his car, and even that would not get out of all his anger. Why did he have to go and be such a moron like always? If he had just kept his temper for once, everything would have been alright. But this was Soldier’s night, not his, and he ruined it because he didn’t stop to think for two seconds.

 

“Uhh, Tavish?”

 

 _‘Please, Jane,’_ Demoman thought, clutching the wheel and pressing the gas down farther, _‘Just shut up.’_

 

“Tavish.”

 

 _‘Shut up shut up shut up._ ’

 

“Tavish.”

 

“ _What do ye want?!_ ” Demoman snapped, whipping his head to the side to glare at Soldier. He softened his features when he saw how startled Soldier was at the sudden outburst- the thing that ruined this night in the first place. Demoman took a deep breath. “Sorry, sorry. What is it, luv?”

 

“The car,” Soldier muttered, motioning to the general interior of the car, “It, uh…”

 

Demoman furrowed his brows and looked back at the road ahead of them. Funny, Demoman didn’t remember wanting to slow down when he stepped on the gas. Was he just so exhausted that his vision was getting screwed up? Or could it be that they have…

 

“Stopped,” Demoman said quietly under his breath.


	3. Gas Station Hot Dogs and Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funny how bad, cheap food always tastes better when you're with a best friend.

They indeed had nearly stopped, the car now going at a speed barely above a crawl. Demoman turned the steering wheel enough to get off the road and allow the car to come to a full stop on the bumpy gravel on the side. He gave the gas pedal several experimental steps, only to produce nothing. When he checked the meter, his worst fears came realized as he saw the little arrow land on the ‘E’ behind glass.

 

Demoman took a deep breath and unbuckled his seat belt, hands fumbling more than he would have liked to. The cool desert air greeted him as he stepped out of the driver’s seat and fumbled with his suit jacket. There were no signs of civilization in sight, and their only light was the fading sunset above them. He scrunched his jacket up into a ball in his hands; it’s not like the presence of wrinkles matter anymore

 

He took another deep breath, held the balled-up jacket to his face, and screamed his lungs out. He screamed and screamed until his lungs began to burn. He felt a gentle presence on his arm which finally prompted him to lift his face up. Soldier, who had gotten out of the car sometime during Demoman’s temper tantrum, stood before him.

 

“There was a gas station roughly two miles back,” he stated, “If we go into a consistent march, we will make it before sun down. I doubt there will be any hippies out here to steal your car.”

 

Demoman blinked for a moment, then nodded as he slipped his jacket back on. “Yeah, alright,” he agreed, “Let’s go.”

 

Soldier led the way, naturally, keeping a steady pace onwards down the road as Demoman lagged behind. Watching how much smoother his companion’s march was, Demoman regretted internally judging Soldier for wearing his boots with his formal wear. Demoman already felt the blisters on his ankles forming, but bit back the winces of pain as he brooded over his bruised ego instead.

 

This was _his_ fault. If only he had listened to Heavy about thinking something this extravagant was necessary. Now he had dragged the love of his life out into the middle of the desert in tacky formal wear, racing against the clock on an empty stomach to make it to the gas station before they were left in the pitch darkness. Hell, who knew if Soldier would still be the love of his life after this disaster? Not like Demoman deserved his forgiveness now.

 

Through his internal self-flagellating, Demoman accidentally let out a groan of pain and faltered in his steps, bending down to clutch his ankle. Soldier stopped dead in his tracks and was immediately at Demoman’s side, a warm hand on his back.

 

“What is it, soldier?” Soldier asked with concern, “Did something bite you? I am prepared to suck the venom out if required.”

 

“Ach, no,” Demoman hissed, “It’s these damn shoes. Feels like a hundred blisters down ‘ere.”

 

Soldier’s underbite shifted in thought for a moment. Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around Demoman’s waist and lifted him off the ground. Before Demoman could properly process what just happened, he was flung over Soldier’s shoulder as easily as if he was a young, skinny lady. Heat rushed towards Demoman’s cheeks and he feebly kicked his legs.

 

“What’s tha big idea, Jane?!” he exclaimed, “Put me down, I can walk fine!”

 

“Negatory, private!” Soldier responded, “It would be unethical to force a wounded comrade to continue marching when he’s in pain! I will carry you until we can get medical assistance! Besides…” Soldier grinned over his shoulder at Demoman, flashing his underbite in the dusk of the night. He reached the hand that wasn’t holding Demoman in place over and gave his partner’s behind a playful smack, which didn’t help Demoman’s burning (face) cheeks. “Now I get to spend more time with my favorite behind!”

 

Demoman groaned and covered his face, wishing he was in a better mood to laugh at this very silly position he was in. Why did Soldier have to be so unconditionally good to him all the time? What did Demoman ever do to deserve a man like this? In some ways, this felt like a sick joke; it was usually Soldier who had the temper issues and Demoman kept positive for him.

 

Soldier began to not just continue onwards towards the gas station now visible in the distance but was now _running_ towards it. Demoman was jostled out of his self-loathing as the sudden change in speed jerked him forwards. He slapped a hand to his chest to prevent the ring falling out of his pocket (though it’s not like he’d be using it tonight anyways).

 

They reached the gas station just when the light in the sky had completely vanished behind the desert mountains, and their new source of light being the fluorescent sign of the station towering over and the light spilling out from the gas station windows. There was only one car in the parking lot, which most likely belonged to the clerk inside, so they were basically alone.

 

Soldier approached the store building until he reached the slightly elevated curb that disconnected the store from the pavement. Gently, he knelt down and set Demoman down on the curb, adjusting his feet to better accommodate the blisters.

 

“Alright, lemme get me wallet…” Demoman mumbled, reaching for his pocket.

 

“Not necessary, son!” Soldier commanded, digging in his own pants pocket and fishing his hand out several seconds later. He opened his fist in front of Demoman’s face to reveal several crumpled bills of varying amounts.

 

Demoman raised an eyebrow. “Where did ye…?”

 

Soldier grinned. “I am a lawyer, remember?”

 

“Ah, right,” Demoman sighed, “Just go get some bandages and somethin’ cold for me ankles, okay?” Soldier was ready to stand up and follow his orders, but he, along with Demoman, froze when a loud rumbling sound came from Demoman’s stomach. Demoman’s mouth melded into a thin line and he hunched his shoulders, wishing Soldier hadn’t heard that.

 

“I will get our necessary supplies,” Soldier responded, now standing to his feet, “Do not exasperate your wounds. I will not be long.”

 

Soldier burst through the double doors of the gas station, leaving Demoman alone in the darkness. He put his face in his hands and rubbed his face all over, as if to wash away the memories of tonight.

 

Everything that happened tonight was Demoman’s fault, yet why was Soldier being so positive about it? There was nothing to make light of this situation. Maybe that was what made Soldier different from Demoman; his mind was simple, and he had little difficulty not seeing the benefits of a situation, no matter how bad. It worked on the battlefield when all hope seemed lost until Soldier motivated the team to coordinate into a strong team attack, and it was working here.

 

Ten minutes later, Soldier plopped a plastic bag next to Demoman, and the knelt before him once more. Demoman pawed at the bag and his stomach came back to life when he saw it’s contents. Paper-wrapped, warm hot dogs, chips, candy bars, and a bottle of beer, as well as an unpacked canister of gasoline for their car. No wonder Soldier had taken so long; he really did get all the necessary supplies to care for Demoman’s needs, and that obviously included feeding his man after their dinner was ruined.

 

Demoman hissed when he felt something cold press against his leg and shifted his gaze to his ankle. Soldier was holding one foot up and pressing the second bottle of beer to his blisters, having rolled his pants up and removed his socks and shoes while Demoman was drooling over the food.

 

“Does it feel bad?” Soldier asked calmly, instead of insults about Demoman being a wuss over “a little pain” like Demoman expected.

 

Demoman slowly shook his head. “N-No,” he replied, “Feels good.”

 

“It will only sting for a moment,” Soldier comforted. Soon enough, he removed the bottle and wrapped Demoman’s foot and ankle in a roll of gauze, ripping the end off with his teeth before tying the knot. He did the same treatment to Demoman’s other foot before sitting on the other side of the plastic bag. “Dig in, private. You earned it.”

 

Soldier readily helped himself to one of the hot dogs, ignoring the ketchup and mustard that got over his mouth region for the moment. He handed the other dog to Demoman as he popped open his beer, which Demoman accepted silently. Upon opening, Demoman’s frustrated expression softened at the sight.

 

Soldier remembered that Demoman liked mustard but not ketchup on his hot dog. Something that Demoman probably told him two or three years ago when they went to a ball game together- the last time Demoman even had a hot dog. It was such a miniscule detail, yet Soldier remembered it, even through all of tonight’s chaos.

 

“Clear night, isn’t it?” Soldier mused, “It’s nice.”

 

“Aye…” Demoman responded, gazing at the sparse stars above them. Though if Demoman was honest, there wasn’t anything beautiful to observe. It was cloudy and a uniform black color with barely any stars in sight. Demoman wouldn’t be surprised if it was going to rain, as rare as it is in the Badlands.

 

Demoman took a bite of the hot dog, and practically moaned at the flavor of this meat of questionable origin. After all the shit he put them through tonight, this dollar hot dog tasted better than any steak would have by now. He felt his eye suddenly get blurry, and he put a hand over his face as his cheeks felt wet for some reason.

 

Soldier stopped in the middle of his chewing and threw his hot dog back in the bag, scooting over to put a hand on Demoman’s arm. “Tavish?” he asked, shaking him lightly, “Are you alright? Something get in your eye?”

 

“No, I am _not_ alright!” Demoman hollered, accidentally chucking his hot dog to the pavement as he turned to face Soldier, which only made him feel worse. Even in the dim light, Soldier now saw the tears coming from Demoman’s red eye, and his face saddened. Demoman now just wanted to scream at him to not look at him with that kind of pity, but all that came from his throat was a choked sob.

 

“Did it taste bad?” Soldier asked, glancing at the thrown hot dog.

 

“What- no!” Demoman snapped, “I dunno _why_ ye even brought me out here, after everything I’ve done to make this night utter _shite_! I fucked everything up, just like always.” He gestured in the direction of the discarded hot dog. “The restaurant, the car, and now this- this food ye bought with yer own money!”

 

Soldier gulped and forced an uncomfortable smile. “The food is not an issue,” he offered, “We still have chips and candy, and I can always purchase more once we are ready to retreat to our car."

 

“Ugh, ye don’t _get_ it, do ye?” Demoman growled, running his fingers through his curly hair, “I ruined everything, any yer just pretending it isn’t my fault. Why don’t ye get _angry_ with me, ya bleedin’ idiot?!”

 

“No, I do not,” Soldier responded quietly, staring down at his lap but not removing his hand, despite Demoman’s insult, “I do not understand why I should be angry. Do you want me to be?”

 

“YES!”

 

Now seeing Soldier’s emotional wound from the insult- something Demoman had promised to _never_ call his partner who struggled with his own self-loathing over his intelligence- Demoman backed down. He wiped the snot from his nose with his suit sleeve and brought his knees to his chest, burying his face in his knees.

 

Soldier paused for a while before moving the plastic bag out of the way to wrap his arms around Demoman. He waited until Demoman let out silent sobs until he spoke up again. “Did… I do something wrong, Tavish?” he asked, “You can be honest with me. Comrades should not keep secrets.”

 

“No, ye dinnae do anything, luv,” Demoman muttered, lifting his head back up and sniffling, “Ach, I’m sorry ye gotta see me like this. I know it’s not manly ta cry over nothin’ and how much of a wuss I was, losin’ me temper like that in the restaurant.”

 

Soldier grabbed Demoman’s cheeks, smushing them between his palms, and forced Demoman to look him in the eyes. He then let go to pull Demoman into a tight embrace, squeezing his ribcage in the best possible way. Demoman couldn’t stop the tears, but he could only look forward as Soldier held him tight. After several minutes of rocking Demoman lightly in their hug, he pulled away to place his hands on Demoman’s shoulders.

 

“I do not want to hear you say those _lies_ again!” Soldier said, “It is not ‘unmanly’ to cry; only _true_ American warriors know when to let out their emotions, and son you are the strongest warrior I know!” He lifted a finger to wipe away a tear from Demoman- something he definitely learned from Demoman doing to him. “Please don’t cry, Tavish.”

 

“B-But, I ruined our date,” Demoman argued, “I’m the reason we’re out here eatin’ shite junk food in the middle of no-where with a dead car and me out here limpin’! Why, why aren’t you angry with me? I know ye wannae just scream right now.”

 

 

Initially, it was hard to tell which way the gears in Soldier’s mind were grinding. Thankfully, before Demoman got too consumed by the nerve-wracking lack of a response, Soldier pulled Demoman into another tight hug, but this time also locking lips. They shared a deep, long kiss as Soldier caressed Demoman’s face, forcing him to lean into Soldier’s touch. When they both ran out of breath, they finally pulled apart, though Soldier kept their foreheads touching.

 

“I know how hard you worked on this,” Soldier said, wiping away Demoman’s tears gently and stroking his bristly beard, “I just did not want to screw it up this time. I knew if I was, y’know… _myself_ , I would only make you more upset. I don’t care if things did not go according to plan; this is still a successful mission in my book because I can still be with my favorite second-in-command!”

 

Demoman raised an eyebrow. “Your _favorite_ second-in-command?” he teased, “Is there more than one yer hidin’ from me?”

 

Soldier frowned. “What?” he said, folding his arms and pouting, “Are you insinuating I would cheat on you?! For _shame_ , Tavish DeGroot, for shame!”

 

The two stared at each other for a moment before bursting out into loud bouts of laughter. Soldier was right; this whole date was an utter disaster. And it wasn’t that bad. He was still here with a smiling, happy Soldier, and that was more than enough. God, what must the clerk inside be thinking at the sound of two giddy men laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe? Neither of them cared, and both of them were okay with that.

 

Soldier grabbed Demoman by the waist to yank him towards himself for another hug, and Demoman had to grab his broad shoulders just to keep from completely toppling over into his lap. As he did so, Demoman suddenly felt something bump into his leg and hit the pavement. Both of them turned their attention to the tiny object, and Demoman’s heart sank.

 

It was the ring box. Soldier knit his brows together and gave Demoman a confused look. He hesitantly let go of Demoman to move to pick up the box from the pavement.

 

“ _No!_ ” Demoman yelled, rushing to snatch the box up first. Soldier withdrew his hand to his chest.

 

“What’s going on?” Soldier questioned. Poor boy didn’t even know why Demoman was so quick to prevent him from seeing the object. Demoman felt guilty as he looked at the closed box in his hands. Better now than never, he decided. He let out a deep breath in and out and turned back to Soldier, despite his hands shaking.

 

“Jane Swallows Doe,” Demoman said, trying to sound like he planned this speech out, “Yer me best mate. Even at the beginning, when we were just teammates, ye were there fer me whenever I wasn’t there fer meself. Ye strove me to become a better man- tae quit drinkin’ so much, tae remember that someone’s always got me back.”

 

“I do not need your flattery, private! I demand explanations!”

 

Demoman paused for a brief moment to keep himself focused on the topic at hand. “Jane, I-I-I love ye… with every inch of me being. I’d die every day for the rest of time if it meant I got to see yer face every day. Yer me best mate and lover. And- and I wannae spend the rest of me life with ye; after the war, and after we grow old and soft.”

 

Soldier’s features softened. “What are you saying, Tavish…?”

 

Demoman breathed in through his nose and out his mouth, holding back his tears. He shifted to face Soldier directly and held out the ring box between them. He slowly opened up the lid, revealing a shiny gold band that glimmered in the dim light of the moth-infested lights above them.

 

“Jane… will ye marry me?”

 

He glanced up from the ring back to Jane’s face, and his eye widened when he saw Soldier immediately starting to cry. He put a hand on Soldier’s cheek, wiping away the flood of tears as they passed by his thumb.

 

“Guess that’s a ‘yes,’ eh?” Demoman said tenderly, “Ye know yer eyes always get so blue when ye cry; so pretty.”

 

“S-Shut up… but affirmative.”

 

* * *

 

 

Demoman and Soldier arrived back at the base at three in the morning, after spending hours kissing at the gas station, and doing even more after walking back to Demoman’s car hand-in-hand. The whole base was silent, probably lost in the comfort of sleep. Heavy and Medic were no doubt cuddling together in Medic’s room, and there was a good chance Scout was sleeping over in Sniper’s van. Pyro had an early bedtime, like every night, and Spy was probably awake but was shut in his room to avoid social interaction.

 

Demoman led Soldier through the hallways while holding his band, both of them unable to control their giggling. As they sought out Demoman’s bedroom to have some extra alone time, they hardly even noticed that the light in Engineer’s workshop was on. They passed it by with no issue, but Demoman halted in place when Soldier suddenly stopped in his tracks. They both peered over their shoulders as Engineer popped out of his workshop, looking a little frantic.

 

“Where in Sam Hill have y’all _been_?” Engineer exclaimed, “You said you were gonna go out to eat nearly twelve hours ago. We were all worried sick ‘bout y’all!”

 

Demoman and Soldier exchanged wide grins and clasped their hands together. “We got a wee bit side-tracked, and-” Demoman began.

 

“I HAVE A HUSBAND NOW!” Soldier boldly exclaimed, raising his new ring on his left hand triumphantly.


End file.
